Just Date and See, page 15
Jess just rolls her eyes.
‘You trust me, don’t you?’ I say seriously.
‘Of course I do,’ she replies.
‘Then stay away from him,’ I insist. ‘I am your sister, I love you, and I only want what’s best for you. Stay away from him.’
‘Okay, okay, I get it. Anyway, you know I’m talking about you, what are you doing in my bed, hmm?’
‘I’m in your bed because I came home last night to find bloody Declan in mine,’ I say.
‘No!’ she shrieks. ‘Declan? Is he still here?’
‘I’d guess so,’ I reply. ‘He was hammered, naked and covered in a takeaway.’
‘Obviously I’m going to go in there and murder him,’ she says, pulling herself to her feet. I catch her hand and pull her back down.
‘That was my first thought too,’ I reply. ‘But I think I need to tread lightly.’
‘No, you need to tread heavily, ideally on his balls,’ she corrects me. ‘Why would you need to tread lightly?’
‘Because he was banging on about how this is his house too,’ I explain. ‘And it technically is. If he wanted to, he could force me to buy him out, which I can’t afford to do – he didn’t even put any money in, never mind hard work, and I really, really don’t want to sell the place, I’ve just got it perfect.’
‘So, it’s not his house at all then, is it?’
‘Not… I don’t know… morally, I guess?’ I reply. ‘But legally speaking, we bought this house in joint names. It doesn’t matter who puts what in. We own this house equally.’
‘And you won’t let me circle back to killing him becaaause…’
‘I just need to think carefully about what the right thing to do is,’ I reply with a heavy sigh. ‘That’s all. Anyway, I think I’ll get up, I need coffee. Want one?’
‘No thanks, I need sleep,’ she replies. ‘I haven’t had much sleep.’
Grim.
Downstairs, I find my parents where they so often seem to be, together at the kitchen island, my mum preparing food and my dad, in the role of her biggest fan, gleefully eating it all. Their chatter seems to calm down as I join them, which seems a little sus.
‘Why is the window open?’ I ask. ‘It’s freezing in here.’
‘Oh, because your dad still can’t flip a pancake,’ Mum says with a laugh. ‘There’s a burnt one in the bin.’
‘I don’t know how you do it, Katie,’ he gushes. ‘You’ll make someone a fantastic wife one of these days.’
Oh, my God, what sort of joke is that? I look over at Mum, who gives him a smile, and a look I can’t quite figure out – it’s like they’re communicating right in front of my face, with a secret code I can’t decipher, and it’s gross.
And speaking of gross, as I close the window, I notice something yucky, and it isn’t the discarded pancake in the bin, it’s Kenny heading to his car.
I grab a coat as I hurry outside in my slippers. I quickly do up my buttons, to hide my pyjamas, even if they are only plain light grey ones.
‘Oi,’ I call out, stopping Kenny in his tracks, before he can get into his black BMW.
He’s dressed smart, in a suit and tie, with a long black heavy coat over the top. He must be headed to work because he has one of those laptop cases in his hands.
‘Good morning,’ he says brightly. ‘Sleep well? I can’t say I got much.’
‘I’ll sleep much better if you leave my sister alone,’ I say sternly, cutting to the chase.
‘What?’ Kenny replies through a chuckle.
‘I’m serious, Kenny, stay hell away from Jess,’ I warn him. ‘I will ruin your life.’
I’m not exactly sure how I would do that but hopefully it sounds good.
‘You already low-key ruin my life,’ he points out. ‘You’re definitely ruining my day, but I don’t let it bother me, I’m sure I’ll have another good night tonight.’
Kenny gives me a wink before getting into his car.
‘I’m serious,’ I shout. ‘You’ll be sorry, if you mess with me.’
Christ, Billie, less is more. With each word that I said, I swear, I sounded less intimidating by the second.
I know that Jess is a grown woman, and that this is technically none of my business, but not only is she my sister, Kenny is my neighbourhood nemesis, and if living next door to him is bad enough now, imagine what it will be like once he’s broken my sister’s heart. Our usual hurtful sparring over the garden fence will turn into me actually wanting to hurt him.
With Kenny speeding off back down the road, I turn my attention back to myself. I can’t worry about that clown now, not when there’s a whole circus inside my house. And with the star attraction still fast asleep in my bed, well, I guess it’s time I go wake him up.
20
It’s a nice idea in theory, making Declan clean up the mess he has made, but in reality, the thought of my bedroom – my carpet, my bed and probably my bathroom too – being covered in takeaway and God knows what else at this stage… it’s too much to bear.
As much as I don’t want to clean up after him (or any drunk person, for that matter), I’m hoping that in doing so I’ll be reinforcing the fact that this isn’t Declan’s bedroom. If we set aside the fact that Declan and I own this house jointly, this still isn’t Declan’s bedroom, because until last night, he had never even slept in it. When we first moved in, the master bedroom was in no fit state, so we slept on a mattress in the guest room. Well, Declan did, because he didn’t see the point in building up a bed for the sake of a few weeks. My first night in this house was agony. I ended up sleeping on the sofa (downstairs, alone, without blinds, which I hated) until I eventually built the bed up in the guest room myself. Declan was long gone before I even started work on the master bedroom. It’s all me, through and through, in every sense. Until last night, I was the only person to have slept in it – although I probably shouldn’t be broadcasting that tragic fact too loudly.
When I walked in here, not too long ago, the only signs of Declan were the remnants of his takeaway, his discarded sweaty-smelling clothes, and the stale smell of booze in the air. Declan himself was already in the shower, so I set about scrubbing the carpet, stripping the bed, and generally cleaning up to try to rid the room of the spirit (or person who had drunk too many spirits, at least) that has been possessing it. First I’m going to get rid of his mess, then I’m going to get rid of him.
As I turn on the electric diffuser, pumping sandalwood into the room in an attempt to get rid of the smell of stale booze and unfinished takeaway, Declan emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His dark hair, which is just past his shoulders now, is dripping water all over the carpet. I’d tell him to put a towel around it if I weren’t worried he would take the one from around his body to do so. From what I can see of his body, it’s changed quite drastically. He’s lost weight, not that he needed to, and not in a way that looks good. He’s skinny, his bony frame almost poking out from under his pale skin, in a way that just makes him look like he hasn’t been taking proper care of himself. Not in an unhealthy way or anything, he looks well enough, just sort of scruffy and uncared for.
‘Good morning, Billie,’ he says brightly.
I wonder if he’s been drinking a lot recently because if I got as drunk as he did last night, I would be on my arse today, not emerging cheerily from the shower.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask him, cutting to the chase.
‘I’m home,’ he replies – which is what he said last night but I was hoping that was just drunken garbage. Today he sounds like he means it.
‘This isn’t your home,’ I tell him. ‘You left, remember? You didn’t want this life.’
‘Well, I also don’t want to be homeless over Christmas,’ he says, pulling a face, a sort of amused grimace, as if to say ‘uh-oh’.
‘Not my problem,’ I point out. ‘You chose to leave.’
‘Well, now I’m choosing to come back,’ he points out with a smile. ‘Thanks for cleaning up my bedroom for me.’
‘Oh, fuck off,’ I can’t help but blurt.
‘Look, my cheeky, irresistible charm aside, I do remember considering last night that you might not want to share a bed with me, but all the other rooms seemed like they had people in them, and this one was empty, so I got in. I thought you might be in the room we used to sleep in. This one is great, though, I love what you’ve done with it.’
I don’t thank him.
‘My parents and Jess are staying here,’ I say. ‘So all the rooms are spoken for. There’s a sofa bed in the office. When Jess is awake, I’ll move her out of there, you can put your things and yourself in there, while you work out where you’re going to go, because you are not staying here.’
‘Well, that’s a start,’ he replies. ‘The office is where we christened the house, do you remember?’
‘I don’t remember at all,’ I reply, which is obviously a lie, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. ‘I thought it was on the stairs, and that’s how we broke the banister, and…’
Declan stares at me blankly.
‘Oh, sorry, awkward, that must have been someone else,’ I say, which is also a lie.
Declan just laughs, which really winds me up.
‘The office it is – for now,’ he says. ‘We’ll see how long you can resist me.’
I look away just in time, as Declan goes to remove his towel. I grab my cleaning products and head back downstairs. I’ll do the bathroom later, when Declan is somewhere else. I can shove him in the office for now – just like I did with most of our bags and boxes when we first moved in, while I figured out what to do with them. But there is no way in hell he’s going to be here on Christmas Day, not a chance. This house is already at capacity and even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be welcome.
I’ll let him get his pants on, get his things together, but then he’s getting the hell out of here.
I don’t know what I’ve done this year, to secure myself the top spot on Santa Claus’s naughty list, but it definitely feels like I’m being punished for something. This house, right now, is like my own personal hell, and after treating it as my sanctuary for the past year, I could panic about my situation. Except I’m not, and I think it’s because of Rocco, because I have him to escape to.
Things will be better, once I’ve got rid of Declan, but I’m starting to get the feeling this ex-orcism is going to take more than diffusing a bit of sandalwood and me asking him nicely to leave, don’t you?
21
If you had told me a few weeks ago that I would be sitting down for lunch with my mum, Jess, my dad and bloody Declan, there’s no way in hell I would have believed you. And yet here we are. Mum has made sandwiches, we’re all sitting down at the table, it’s all awfully civilised, and yet somehow this has to be the most barbaric moment of the holidays yet.
‘So, how long have you been back together?’ Declan asks my parents. ‘That’s great news, isn’t it?’
Declan gives me a nudge and a smile.
‘Oh, we’re not back together,’ Mum tells him. ‘Rowan has actually remarried; his wife is here for Christmas too.’
‘Wow, really?’ Declan replies through a mouthful of crisps. ‘Because I’m getting a serious vibe off the two of you.’
He isn’t the only one. Jess and I shoot each other a look.
‘I think we’ve just learned how to be mature, and how to coexist together,’ Mum offers.
‘We’re getting on really well again,’ Dad tells him. ‘I’m over the moon about it – we all are.’
I notice Jess take her phone from her pocket and tap the screen a few times before I feel my own phone vibrate in my pocket.
This is weird.
She’s not wrong. I type a reply.
Too weird. We should try and talk to them today, try and figure out where their heads are at, and what is going on.
As I wait for Jess’s reply to come through, I watch my parents making small talk with my ex.
Definitely. You take Dad, I’ll take Mum. And we need to get rid of Declan, this is beyond awkward. He’s the last thing we need.
I am distracted from texting Jess when I hear what my mum is saying to Declan.
‘Oh, no, Declan, no one should be alone at Christmas,’ she replies.
‘It’s worse than being alone, I’m actually sort of homeless,’ he replies.
I shoot him a look. The scumbag is playing my mum for sympathy, and my mum is too nice to resist it.
‘Well, I’m sure you can spend Christmas here,’ Mum says. ‘Until you sort a roof over your head – although this is Billie’s house, so only if she’s okay with it?’
I appreciate her back-pedalling, but I can’t exactly say no now, can I?
‘Declan, can I talk to you in the utility room for a moment?’ I say.
He follows me.
‘Right, cut that out, you can’t get around me by tugging on my mum’s heartstrings,’ I tell him.
‘It’s not that, Billie, I really am homeless,’ he replies. ‘I can move in with my folks, when they’re back from their holidays, but until then, I’m screwed. Please let me stay here?’
‘What, and then you’ll just go?’ I say. ‘Simple as that?’
‘If you let me spend Christmas here, yes, I’ll go, I’ll get out of your hair, I’ll leave you in peace again,’ he insists.
He seems genuine but he also told me he loved me a bunch of times over the years, so you never really know, do you? Of course, considering this for a second reminds me that I did love him once, or at least I thought I did. If I believe anything it’s that he is probably homeless for Christmas. I’m not sure I could leave anyone in that position (and it’s not like I don’t already have a house full of unwanted guests) so, even if he is a scumbag, I’m not. I’m not as heartless as he is.
‘Promise?’ I reply.
‘I promise,’ he says.
Again, he seems sincere, but he did also tell me multiple times that we would be together forever and look how that turned out.
‘Okay, fine, so long as you mean it,’ I eventually say, ‘but only because you’re desperate, and I feel sorry for you. That’s it.’
‘Billie, you’re an angel, thank you,’ he says, kissing me on the cheek.
‘You won’t regret this.’
God, I really hope I don’t.
22
While I am gutted that today’s Mingle All the Way event has been cancelled (it was at an indoor climbing wall place, which has had to close for technical reasons, and thank God because can you imagine me on a climbing wall? I’ve been known to fall simply running up the stairs), today is the one day I do need to be at home, whether I want to be or not.
Rocco seemed gutted the event was cancelled too. There was talk about maybe trying to arrange a dinner with Leila and Tobias – well, we feel like we owe them something, even if they don’t know it – but after Jess and I tried to speak to our parents earlier, we have decided that there is no time like the present to take action.
As the two of us reconvened, after she spoke to Mum, and I spoke to Dad, Jess’s conclusion was that Mum was hiding something, and clearly had an extra spring in her step. With Dad, well, all he seemed to talk about was Mum, how well she was doing, how great she looked. I felt like he was getting at something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Either way, something is going on, and with Gail away working again, tonight seemed like the night to act.
You know that scene in The Parent Trap, where Annie and Hallie recreate the romantic scene from the night when their parents met, to try to convince them to get back together? Well, tonight Jess and I are going to be, I suppose, reverse Parent Trapping our parents. So, instead of recreating a memorable romantic night, we will be doing the opposite, recreating a bad memory, a night that Jess and I remember being the beginning of the end of our parents’ relationship.
Mum and Dad used to throw dinner parties for their friends, with everyone taking it in turns to visit each couple’s house, where they would eat, drink and play games. If you were hosting you obviously wouldn’t need a babysitter, for what they all called the Saturday Night Club, and that’s when Jess and I loved to sneak out of our beds, sit on the stairs, and listen to their conversations.
There are three things Jess and I remember about the Saturday Night Club. The first is that they would drink wine, and lots of it. The second thing is that curry would always be on the menu for the evening. And, finally, the main source of entertainment would come from playing boardgames together.
Given that everyone was in a couple, these games would usually be ones that you played in pairs – even for games like Trivial Pursuit, they would play in their couples. But the night we’re recreating, the night they all fell out, the night that signified that beginning of the end for my parents, was the night they played A Matter of Morals, a boardgame from the eighties that my dad had found while clearing out his parents’ house and then decided they should all play together, with the whole evening turning out to be a sort of un-PC take on Jumanji, and the jungle very much did come to them, because things got wild.
The idea with A Matter of Morals is to read out all these different dilemmas from cards, and not only to answer what you would do in each scenario, but to guess what other people would do too. Naturally, the game always winds up turning into a huge debate on who would do what, and everyone judging everyone else for their different choices.
So, that’s what we’re going to do tonight, we’ve both invited Mum and Dad to have dinner with us (saying we’ll cook, although we’re definitely going to be getting the curries delivered) and we’re all going to sit down and play A Matter of Morals together, and as the wine flows and we each answer questions, I’m hoping that the old memories will come flooding back, and Mum and Dad will realise just how awful things were, how wrong they are for each other, and that they should never, ever get back together under any circumstances.
